He is the drollest little person in the world—the Filipino of the southern isles. He imitates the sound of chickens in his language and the nasal “nga” of the carabao. He talks about his chickens and makes jokes about them. As he goes along the street, he sings, “Ma-ayon buntag,” or “Ma-ayon hapon,” to the friends he meets. This is his greeting in the morning and the afternoon; at night, “Ma-ayon gabiti.” And instead of saying, “Thank you,” he will sing, “Deus mag bayud” (God will reward you), and the answer, also sung, will be “gehapon” (always)—just as though it were no use to look for a reward upon this world. You wonder how it is that he can spend his life rooted to one spot, like a tree, passing the days in idleness. He is absorbed in his own thoughts. If you should ask him anything he Many mistakes have been made in the hasty judgment of the Filipino character. Such axioms as “Never trust a native under any circumstances;” “Never expect to find a sense of gratitude;” “Never believe a word a native says,” are only too well known in Filipinia. The Spanish influence has been responsible for most of the defects as well as for the merits of the native character. Then, the peculiar fashion of the Oriental mind forbids his reasoning according to the Occidental standards. Cause and effect are hazy terms to him, and the justification of the The Filipino code of ethics justifies a falsehood, especially if the end in view should be immediate. He lies to save himself from punishment, and he will make a cumulative lie, building it up from his imagination until even the artistic element is wanting, and his lie becomes a thing of contradictions and absurdities. When The Spaniards, when they left out gratitude from his curriculum, made up for the deficiency by inculcating strict ideals of discipline. The Filipino never has had much to be grateful for, and he regards a friendly move suspiciously. But he admires a master, and will humbly yield to almost any kind of tyranny, especially from one of his own race. The poorer classes rather like to be imposed upon in the same way as the Americans appreciate a humbug. In their communities the presidente is supreme in power; and, like the king, this officer can do no wrong. He uses his position for his private ends. Why not? What is the use of being presidente if it does not profit you? I have known some who secured monopolies Malay traditions make the Filipino proud, disdainful, and reserved—and also cruel. Not only are the ardent sun and his inherent laziness The Filipino is fastidious and dainty—in his own way. He will shudder at the uncouth Tagalog who toasts locusts over a hot fire and eats them, and that evening will go home and eat a handful of damp guinimos, the littlest of fish. He takes an infinite amount of care of his white clothes, and swaggers about the streets immaculate; but just as soon as he gets home, the suit comes off and is reserved for future exhibition purposes. The women pay comparatively small attention to their personal adornment. Their hair is combed straight back upon their heads. The style of dresses never undergoes a change. The ordinary dress consists of three important pieces—the chemise, a long, white, sleeveless garment; the camisa, or the piÑa bodice, with wide sleeves; and the skirt, caught up on one side, and preferably of red material. A yoke or scarf of piÑa folds around the neck, and is considered indispensable by seÑoritas. The native ideas of modesty are more or less false, varying with the individual. It might be thought that, on account of his indifferent attitude toward life and death, the Filipino has no feelings or emotions. He is a stoic and a fatalist by nature, but an emotionalist as well. While easily affected, the impressions are not deep, and are forgotten as they slip into the past. Although controlled by passion, he will hold himself in, maintaining a proud reserve, especially in the presence of Americans. A subtle change of color, a sullen brooding, or persistent silence, are his only outward signs of wrath. He will endure in patience what another race had long ago protested at; but when at last aroused and dominated by his passions, he will throw reserve and caution to the winds, and give way to his feelings like a child; and like a child, he feels offended if partiality is exercised against him. His sense of justice then asserts itself, and he resents not getting his share of anything. He even will insist on being punished if he thinks punishment is due him. While revengeful if imposed upon, and bitter under the autocracy of cruelty, he has a great respect for firmness. And the Americans would do well to remember The Filipino can not be depended upon for accurate, reliable information. His information is indefinite, as perhaps it should be in the land of By and By. In spite of his imaginative temperament, his cruelty to animals is flagrant. He starves his dog and rides his pony till the creature’s back is sore. He shows no mercy for the bird that loses at the cock-fight; he will mercilessly tear it limb from limb. In order to explain—not to excuse—this cruelty, we must again regard the Filipino as a child—a child of the toad-stabbing age. A little learning he takes seriously, and is puffed up by pride when he can follow with his horny finger the religious column in Ang Suga, spelling the long words out laboriously. Even the boys and girls who study English, often do so only to be “smart.” It is a clever thing to spice one’s conversation with an English word or expression here and there. Yet the Filipino is not altogether lazy and unsympathetic. Often around his houses you will While not original, they are good imitators, and would make excellent clerks, mechanics, carpenters, or draughtsmen. Some of their devices rather remind one of a small boy’s remedy for warts or “side-ache.” In order to exterminate the rats they introduce young pythons into the garrets of their houses, where the snake remains until his appetite is satisfied for rodents and his finer tastes developed. Usually the Filipino does things “wrong side out.” Instead of beckoning when he would summon any one, he motions away from himself. Instead of making nicknames, such as Bob or Bill, from the first syllable, he uses the last, abbreviating Balendoy to ’Doy, Diega to a simple ’Ga. They are the happiest people in the world, free from all care and trouble. It is among the younger generation that the promise lies. The little ones are bright and gentle and respectful—quite unlike the boisterous denizens of Young America. The race is still back in the fourteenth century, but the progress to be made within the next few years will span the chasm at a single bound. When I return to Filipinia, I shall expect to |